there were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest.
anais nin
i've been thinking about words lately.
words versus experience. words aiming at experience. and how words do not always fail, but they are never the thing.
a photo of an apple, let's say (first thing that came to mind, must remember to have one later) is not the apple. it is an image of the apple. and a compressed image at that. and because compressed, inherently distorted.
words convey an image. compressed and distorted. aiming at truth, but not the truth itself.
when i first went to see tom many moons ago (to deal with that nasty case of bulimia) we talked a lot about weight. a number. weight is a number. but it isn't, not really. weight is a constantly changing thing, contingent upon countless factors--many of them unknowable. tom told me that even with the very best scales the world has to offer, taking my weight at the same time each week, after many weeks all he would be able to give me was an approximation and an idea as to whether my weight was going up, down, or holding steady (well, holding as steady as weight ever can hold).
but we americans we like to know things. we like things in black in white. we want the concrete. and a number, well, that's concrete.
i began this blog as a way to tunnel out of a very dark period in my life. a way to focus on the good and identify all those things that fill me up and fill me out. as a way of cataloging progress and change. but after the last three years with this blogspot lover of mine, the only thing i can say with any certainty is this: i am not what i wrote last week, nor what i wrote two years ago. but somewhere in the space between--if you could subtract the one from the other--somewhere in the weeds of all that muck, you'll find me.
this is all an attempt. an attempt at truth. an attempt at my truth. and i tell lies and omit things and twist the facts to aim at a larger truth. but it is not truth.
there is a buddhist expression: the finger pointing to the moon is not the moon.
everything i've shared here, it is not the moon, it only points to it.
but i'm trying. and that's something.
bright eyes
i spent much of this morning trying to describe my feelings about what's happening in london. but there aren't enough words.
biright eyes played towards the end of day one at lollapalooza. i was standing way at the back. not paying too much attention. i had instagram out, was people watching and daydreaming. and then conor played what follows. and of all the songs i heard over the course of the three days--of all the music--it's the one i can't get out of my head. the one i found most halting and beautiful--with the greatest meaning.
the progression is simple and stunning.
and on this tuesday morning, with my heavy boots, it seems particularly meaningful.
dale earnhardt jr. jr.
dale earnhardt jr. jr. was one of those bands that my friend scott and i just happened upon. we had gotten ice cream and gone in search of shade and standing all the way at the back--barely able to see them--just beneath the trees i fell in love during the course of this song.
and it was one of my very favorites of all of the festival.
i do apologize if you all get tired of hearing me talk about music and lollapalooza this weekend. i humbly beg your forgiveness. it's just that it's what's on my mind.
lessons from lollapalooza.
i started to get really blue last night. and this was more than your average sunday-night-blues. this was an intense feeling of not wanting to return. not-wanting-to-return-to-the-real-world-blues. these past few days have been so very good to me--good for me. and i am aware that some of what transpired will never be spoken aloud (words only go so far, you know?) and most of what transpired will be left in chicago frozen in some glorious moment in time. but i also thought, some of what made these past few days so wonderful could certainly be introduced into my real-world-life, no? so what i offer below are my lessons from lollapalooza:
1. sometimes a morning mimosa is the only way to begin a day, lattes be damed! or heck, have them both if you so fancy.
2. an umbrella is a versatile thing.
3. there's a fine line between looking ridiculous and looking unbelievably cool. it's a confidence thing.
4. it's okay to flirt, to not give a damn, to eat whatever you want. (all three in moderation, of course).
5. when the sky opens up, dance. and laugh--laugh, a lot. (and if you're so lucky that music is playing, do sing along, won't you).
6. people in restaurants, on the train, even those standing three feet away from you for the three hours leading up to local natives--it's okay to talk to them. they won't bite. and heaven help me, a smile goes a long way.
7. a twenty-dollar dress can be a girl's best friend.
8. the really good stuff, music or not--everyone will stop to listen.
9. you have to show up. because it's when you least expect it that you find yourself at the very best concert.
lolla update.
i didn't bring my camera to lollapalooza. i didn't want to worry about it. didn't want it getting in the way of enjoying some really great music. so, alas, i don't have pictures to offer you. but i found this video which is a fantastic audio version of one of my favorite songs from day one (not sure what's going on with the visual--it's not an image from yesterday).
i adore the mountain goats and this song is one of my favorites:
there's so much more i want to share. foster the people and bright eyes and the vaccines. but i suppose i shouldn't spill all my beans at once. and i really should get ready for the day ahead. so...
ok.